Whispers From the Trees: Finding Balance

By Penny Reed

As I prepare for my walk, I notice my body's exhaustion. It has been a busy summer filled with family gatherings, adventures by the ocean, immersive spiritual retreats, household renovations, music concerts, and a marvellous wedding festival. The frenetic summer energy helped me move from one event to the next.

I acknowledge and thank my body for all it does, and I promise to add more care to it as the energy of autumn moves in.

My feet move slowly, and my body groans as I stretch gently. It has been sweltering, and I’m craving cooler temperatures. As I enter the forest, I notice the faint smell of fallen leaves and am reminded that the colder weather is not far off. The asters are blooming in the meadow, and their delicate violet looks stunning next to the yellow goldenrod. The bees are feverishly feasting on these last blossoms as they prepare for the changing season. The mosquitoes also enjoy this warm day and are out in full force. 

I arrive at my altar space, give offerings, set my intentions for the journey, and ask for healing and fortification. I tune into the land's energy and notice that it, too, carries a restlessness. I smile, taking comfort in the fact that this feeling is shared. I felt called to bring my flute on this walk, so I played it a bit to sink deeper into resonance with the forest. When I’m finished, I notice that the energy has shifted, so I begin my walk feeling more at ease with each step. I stop at a new stone friend to say hello. We met several weeks ago by chance as moving sunbeams guided me to their location. They feel ancient and wise, grounding and sacred. I notice a sizeable fresh flush of Turkey tail mushrooms as I depart from their company. I feel called to kneel and touch their soft skin.

I breathe in their earthy smells and thank them for their beauty and nourishment.

I noticed a bunch of Wood Duck wing feathers on the forest floor below the mushrooms. I gathered some feathers, thanked the Wood Duck, and walked towards the pond. I remembered seeing and hearing the Wood Ducks on the pond in spring. They had much to say, along with the peeper frogs. I reached down to touch the waters, placed several feathers on the surface, sent prayers to its mate, and celebrated its life.

I could feel the cedar grove pulling me forward. 

Once under the thick canopy of the fragrant bows, I visited the grandmother birches that dwell there. I heard Raven's call during one rather long and emotional embrace. I instinctively reached for my flute and played several notes. The Raven then landed on the tall birch closest to me and made a knocking/clicking sound. I played my flute some more. This time, Raven attempted to mimic one of the tones of the flute. I responded with the same notes. We continued this back and forth for some time, and then they flew away. I stood there motionless, my rational mind attempting to understand what had happened. I remembered the feelings and whispers when I first held the flute. The stories shared that the flute was an instrument that connected the spirit of the forest to the beings of the unseen and seen world.

This moment with Raven confirmed my deep relationship with the land and allowed an honouring of my experiences.

For you see, even though every word I share is my truth, at times, it seems/appears unbelievable. Sometimes, I wonder if it was just a dream, but the bones, the stones, and the feathers on my altar at home tell a different story, and it appears that Raven does, too. 

Just then, I could hear the loud thumping of the Pileated woodpecker. With flute in hand, I walked towards the rhythmic beat. Woodpecker was hard at work, and as I approached, I noticed pieces of wood falling through the branches, blanketing the ground beneath him. In amongst the wood chips, something caught my eye. I reached down and lay my hands over the tiny pieces of wood. Nestled amongst the chips was a small piece of bone. I picked it up and detected it was from a beaver, its long yellowed tooth still attached to this fragment of its jaw. Beaver is always busy and finds joy in being industrious.

I felt a quiet message whispering, “Work to improve your quality of life experience.”

I thanked Beaver for this remembering and began to see my hectic summer as a gift and sign of abundance. Gratitude washed over me.

In the distance, I noticed a sunny, mossy mound and began moving towards it. As I carefully stepped through the woods, the corner of my eye saw a large deposit of fresh bear scat. I quickly became aware that I had wandered into an unfamiliar part of the forest. Not wanting to surprise a bear on its morning forage, I began playing notes of the flute to let them know where I was. I thought of what bear meant to me, and feelings of strength, courage and leadership surfaced.

I felt a whisper that echoed through my bones: “You cannot be a grounding force for others if you are not strong and actively grounding yourself.”

I pushed through a thick patch of brambles only to find myself at the edge of a swampy marsh. I'm not feeling very grounded at this moment! Determined, I rolled up my pant legs and moved forward, trusting that the known path was just beyond this wet part of the land. Little frogs and tiny water creatures parted the way, and I pushed the thought of leeches out of my mind. As predicted, the path was right beyond the swamp, and I stepped out onto firm ground and familiar territory.

I took a moment to get my bearings and fix up my clothes. I leaned on an old Ironwood tree for support. As I readied myself for the path ahead, I noticed my hand holding a giant horn of Chaga. I gently placed my flute and beaver bone in my bag and took a moment to take in this beautiful being before me - its twisted, knotted branches, shaggy feathery bark, and majestic growth of Chaga. I went in for a deep embrace. I allowed my breathing to slow down and noticed the weight from my shoulders slide off my body. I sunk deeper into its bark, and a quiet peace flowed into me like a gentle river. My body quivered as it released tension and adjusted to this welcomed vibration. I felt as if I could almost fall asleep, and perhaps I even did (even just for a moment) when I heard the tree whisper…

“Take time to breathe. Balance is needed. Nourish yourself.” 

I let this wisdom ripple through me. Self-care is required. I noticed how this message felt like a lead balloon in my body. I followed this sensation for further inquiry, observing the thoughts that sprung into my consciousness like a dam that had just been breached. I noticed the dread that came with the idea of slowing down. All the ‘To Do’ lists swirled and danced like a kaleidoscope across my mind's eye. Buried beneath the layers of lists lay in hiding - fear. Fear of letting others down, being rejected, or not performing to the high standards I set. I doubled down and chose to hold that fear like a small child, honouring the need to feel acceptance and belonging.

I felt deeper into what self-care would look like for me and what I needed. As I allowed myself to explore my needs, a spaciousness took root. Clarity began to form. I was reminded of the oxygen mask rule on airplanes - when they come down, you're instructed to put yours on first and then help others. This was the message from Bear. It felt like a permission to care for myself. Trust then surfaced to remind me that the people in my life would not be offended by my needing to take a few steps back. That they would encourage me to rest, recharge, and restore. I took several deep breaths and thanked the tree for its wisdom and grace. As I stepped back onto the trail, the mighty Chaga horn released and fell to the ground. I picked it up and smiled as I took this gift from the tree to mean that I needed to prioritize self-care.  

I carefully wrapped up the Chaga, placed it next to the flute and beaver bone in my bag, and then set off on my way home. As I walked, I explored the term self-care and allowed myself to define what it means, what it looks like, and how to support myself in following through with it. I was careful not to jump to the prescribed notions of eating better, exercising more, or getting more sleep. I decided that it wasn’t essential to have a list of what I needed to do, but I thought perhaps the solution was just the opposite. No list of ‘should’s’ for wellness was required. What would that space of being and allowing feel like? Not having a game plan felt a little uncomfortable, but it felt liberating, and somehow like I was on to something.

Perhaps it was fewer lists and less to-do’s that were needed? It felt like a good start. One thing I was sure of was that I was brewing some Chaga tea!

Walking With You, Penny

Penny hosts Human Design readings and Sacred Herbs workshops. Check out her offerings on our website.